


being this godly

by Still_sleepless



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Not Beta Read, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-01-26 04:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21368482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_sleepless/pseuds/Still_sleepless
Summary: When Donghyuck was a kid he was full of aspirations. Hopping from one dream to another like he was a rich man with deep pockets dealing in an excess of dreams. Once, he even felt destined to be a singer. Someone deep and soulful, who could reach through a screen with their voice and cause joy and sorrow in immeasurable amounts.Then he realised he wasn't good looking enough. And that was that.He's caused sorrow in other ways, though.Alternatively:Donghyuck is an addict. It's as simple as that.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Na Jaemin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	1. a is for amphetamine

**Author's Note:**

> being this godly can't be good. 

Blood pulses from an open wound, uneven and terrible. There's a frantic energy to Hyuck's movements. As if his despair is driving him forwards, forwards and forwards onto something he can't take back. He laughs, something loud and harsh to fill in the silence that follows him wherever he goes. It's even more prominent here, in this darkened basement dwelling that's occupied only by him and some spiders that aren't venomous enough to kill him.

Above his head a neon light flickers and he groans, needle haphazardly pushing past his skin. There's a moment where the tension of his skin seems reluctant to give way. but then it's gone and he smiles, eyes rolling backwards to show only the whites. It's a lie. The smile is a lie. But Hyuck has nothing left other than his needles and his spiders and his lies. This temporary relief floods through his veins and offers a brief sense of peace that's veiled white and shimmers the longer he keeps his eyes closed.

Death lays dormant and begins to shed its skin when Hyuck keeps his eyes closed for too long. We can't stay ignorant forever.

He jolts suddenly, vision hazy and slow. There was a promise he made recently, both to someone else and to himself. He contemplates breaking it. Then he sighs, a great heaving thing that rattles the bones loose in his ribcage. 

Today doesn't feel like a day for breaking promises.

Gathering himself up, small frame knocking against the wall and shaking like a wilting sunflower in the wind. Hyuck squints at the inside of his forearm and blows at the track marks that lay there like a regretful map. _x marks the spot. _

The newest track is already bruising over and he bares his teeth wide in an attempt at feeling in control. It doesn't work but he's not surprised. It never does.

He walks across to his mattress that's sprawled across the floor. The sheets have come loose and looking down at them Hyuck feels like there's a joke there but it doesn't come to mind. something about art imitating life or maybe that he's a sheet come loose. 

Hyuck knows that there's no joke to be made. There's no room for laughter down here.

He looks at his reflection in the cracked mirror that was a present from someone. He can't remember who right now. It's smeared over with a thin layer of grime. There are a dozen different Hyucks all staring back and all coloured over with dirt and _giving up_. If giving up had a colour then Hyuck supposes it would be the colour of his veins in the rain. Tinged green and filled to the brim with medical grade morphine.

He blinks and a dozen different fractals of himself follow. He rubs at the bags making a home under his eyes and finds that they just seem to get worse. "Looking good, Lee Donghyuck." He mutters, voice breaking in the middle and considerably rough from not speaking all day. The twelve little Lee Donghyucks just frown back in disappoinment, eyes downturned towards the harsh edges of his hands that are currently curled into desperate fists. 

"You can't judge me," he says, voice stronger than before. Hyuck turns abruptly, grabbing a hoodie off of the single rickety chair that he owns. He shrugs it on and looks at himself one last time. The stick-like quality of his arms have been concealed and he nods, just barely satisfied. Patting his jeans and confirming that his wallet is in his pockets, Hyuck slouches out of his apartment, walking past the needle that's still on the floor. He refuses to look at it and leaves with a gentle click. He leaves behind silence that's only punctuated by the flickering of faulty led lights. 

The bus feels like something old. something older than Hyuck. Older than time itself with how it moans out a sombre tune. Metal creaks overhead and he ponders on how many health and safety violations are being violated just by transporting him to his destination. 

The bus is a death trap but that makes it feel like home. Hyuck is at home amongst the almost-death that this bus brings with it.

It's why he's never changed his route. he knows that's sad. Pathetic.

Once he's dropped off he bundles closer in on himself, hoodie a poor defence against that night air.

Hyuck takes stodgy steps towards the corner cafe that's lit up. He's already envisioning the sight within. Warmth and good food. He'll stick out like an addict that doesn't belong. O_h wait._

He stifles a laugh, knowing that he doesn't need to look any more crazy.

Once he passes through the threshold, there's no going back. At the far end, talking to a waiter with an easy smile, is Jaemin.

Pink hair bright like a newly bloomed rose, there's no mistaking that it's Jaemin. Even without the hair, Hyuck knows that he'd recognise that face. Shining eyes that sometimes appear in his nightmares, leaving him feverish and jumpy. 

Without thinking, Hyuck moves to the side, hiding behind a wall out of jaemin's sight. There's no real significance to it and he immediately feels foolish. but still he hides, peeking out to watch jaemin who's still happily chatting away. He's at ease. It's unfair, really. That which Hyuck wants is out of reach, so he pushes it even further away with temporary satisfaction. 

"Fuck it." he says before walking forward boldly, jaemin catches his eye and his smile trembles, eyes drooping terribly. Then it's back, smile brighter than ever. Fixed on like plastic that's been melted and reshaped. 

Hyuck remembers why he breaks promises even as he grins and takes a seat. He's reminded that he prefers sadness to plain pity.

"Donghyuck-ah! I was beginning to think that I'd been stood up," jaemin beams, voice laced with a sweetness that fills up Donghyuck's head like dizzying smoke. Jaemin reaches across the table and cups both of Hyuck's hands in his, "your hands are freezing. I would have picked you up if you had asked."

Donghyuck smiles slightly, pulling his hands away slowly. 

"There's no point when there's the bus," he says dismissively before glancing at the hot chocolate on the table, "is this for me?" Jaemin nods silently, hands now retracting back to his lap. Jyuck takes a sip, the drink trailing down his throat like a burn. It's satisfying.

"You're never around." 

Donghyuck pauses, still swallowing the drink before placing the mug down. He doesn't reply and just watches jaemin shake imperceptibly, eyes dampening quickly.

"You never answer the phone. You never hang out with us," Jaemin's looking at the ceiling, lips curled unattractively, "I'm worried out of my mind all the time." He's slumped over in a way that makes Donghyuck bite his lip hard, it hurts but not nearly as much as his heart does. Jaemin wrings his hands furiously before finally meeting Donghyuck's eyes. Donghyuck knows what's coming, but it doesn't make him any more prepared. Jaemin looks infuriated, two twin points of red sitting high on his cheekbones. Hyuck wants to hold him and hit him all at once. He does neither.

"Jaemin, i miss you too-" he starts before Jaemin jumps, forehead creased and fringe falling in his eyes. 

"Then move in with me." and there it is, the question that lingers every time they speak. The hot chocolate is getting cold, cream slowly drowning the longer they sit there. Jaemin frowns momentarily, so quickly that Hyuck wonders whether it's a mirage.

Donghyuck relaxes, tension slipping off of him like a second skin. he sits back and squares his shoulders. Jaemin's visage is fiery. There's no way to back down.

"I'm not moving in with you." He says simply, tapping on the table as he does so.

"Why?"

"We've been over this before." Hyuck pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to alleviate the aggravation crawling along his skin. He can feel a headache forming. The drugs don't last nearly as long as they once did.

"Humour me," Jaemin says, voice low and rough. He blinks, long and slow, staring at the place where hyuck's nose dips slightly to the right as if enraptured. He wipes at his brow furiously with the back of one hand.

"Fine. you're busy with work, being ordered about everywhere. i don't want to distract you. I can't pay my half of the rent either. Your place is too expensive." he stops, considering something, _and I can hardly shove a needle in my arm with you around_. "and I won't live rent-free. I refuse to mooch off of you so plea-" Hyuck is cut off again and he has to fight the urge to clench his jaw, eye twitching in irritation. 

Jaemin holds one hand up in a stop motion before steepling them and staring hard at Donghyuck. "then take off your hoodie." he waves towards him, looking, not satisfied but, conflicted that he's cornered him. As if he doesn't want to be saying this. Hyuck _knows_ he doesn't. But this doesn't stop him from gaping, mouth dropping open, and shifting backwards. "I can _hear_ your distress from here," Jaemin mutters in a sardonic manner, full lips thinning out as he tries a smile. "Take off your hoodie and i'll stop asking you to move in." He says, words sticking to the roof of his mouth like toffee. 

Donghyuck hunches in on himself, gaze flitting around rapidly as he attempts to formulate a way out. There's a rush of something horrible in his blood and cruelty was always his speciality. 

"Don't be ridiculous. I knew you were paranoid but us being friends doesn't give you the right to say _just_ anything." Venom spills out of his mouth, speech crooked and spittle flying. He feels sharp, like if he were to hold jaemin's cheeks in his grip ever so gently, he'd slice through to muscle and sinew. 

Jaemin scoffs, that one movement meaner that anything else."You're using again." He doesn't wait for an answer, face turning ruddy from the exertion, the pain. "Of _course_, you are." 

There's several seconds when neither of them say anything. Donghyuck takes another sip of his hot chocolate. It coats his tongue with a thin film of something slimy, doesn't slide down his throat as the condensed milk burns again. This time, for an entirely different reason.

There's a blur of motion, stifling and fast. Jaemin has grabbed at his arm, tugging hard at his sleeve. "T_ake it off. Take it off. Take it off_." he chants, a sickening mantra that pierces hyuck's skin with every utterance. Donghyuck pulls away - drinks knocked down in the process - and scowls, mouth turned down in an unsightly grimace. 

"Jesus christ. have you gone insane?!" he stands, ignoring the hush that's fallen over the cafe and grabs jaemin's collar, pulling him in. Faces close enough that if hyuck just parted his lips he could-

"I came because i felt bad but _this_? _you_? I feel like i _should_ be using again to deal with your insanity," donghyuck sucks in a great deal of air, about to say something else. but then he shoves jaemin away and grabs at his own head. 

He pretends that he doesn't see jaemin's face, too much like an abandoned animal left out in the rain. "Don't call me for a while. I won't answer." There's a stillness to the air as Hyuck says these words, so resentful he could scream. Jaemin flinches like he's been hit but does nothing else, looking beyond hyuck to a place that neither of them can reach.

Slamming a crumpled ten dollar note on the table, Donghyuck leaves like the coward he is. 

Because the truth is this: donghyuck might be killing himself but it's J_aemin_ who would die first. a thousand times over. The hurt that Hyuck feels is nothing compared to Jaemin as he watches him die ever so slowly. If one of them goes then the other does too. It's stupid and childish and oh, so damaging. But it's also so utterly jaemin, the good samaritan that he is. and Donghyuck is a terrible excuse for a human being but he won't let Jaemin die just by _watching_ him. 

Because Jaemin shines like a star that's lost it's gravity, falling to earth at speeds that Donghyuck can't keep up with.

And when he's around Donghyuck he's twisted into something that belongs not in the sky but in the dirt. somewhere besides Hyuck, in a shallow grave carved out just for them.

As Hyuck sits in the dark, shivering from the wind, he knows that he can't let this continue. That's why he running fast and far away, putting as much distance between their hearts as he can without actually leaving. 

It's a pity that jaemin was always the more athletic one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't know what i'm doing tbh.
> 
> title taken from "ana" by mother mother. all chapter summaries taken from the same song.


	2. b is for benzodiazepine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being this godly can't be good for my safety.

Donghyuck returns home late - having wandered the streets for an insurmountable amount of time - to a barren basement and immediately resorts to using the last of his Vicodin stash. He slumps down to the concrete floor and makes a makeshift desk with an overturned box and sets about tearing aluminium foil and in doing so, he receives a shallow cut on his palm that's more painful than it looks. In spite of the pain, Donghyuck grits his teeth and begins to crush the few remaining pills into fine powder - or close enough for it to not matter - before pulling a lighter out of his pocket and, after a few tries, he manages to heat the foil up. It's slow, but the Vicodin turns to liquid and Donghyuck feels himself salivate at the very sight. He's quick to fiddle with the torn straw that's lying on the floor, ravenous in his movements, a vulture of his own making, and then he's sky-high, huffing the smoke and forgetting his (Jaemin's) pain.

The difference between misery and forgiveness is just one line but Donghyuck can't make himself cross it.

The sky is a watery grey, streaming weakly through the glazed windows, when Donghyuck awakens. The world is not as it should be. He'd fallen asleep on the floor, hunched over as he sat, and before him is the evidence of his transgressions. Foil burnt black, straw lost somewhere and the scent of disappointment clings to his skin. Donghyuck straightens up and the pain in his neck confirms that the buzz has worn out and when he stands the sound of his phone makes itself known. It's the alarm that Donghyuck had set, alerting him to the fact that he has a job in 15 minutes.

With sudden urgency, Donghyuck sets about changing his clothes, exchanging one ragged shirt for another. Then he passes into his sorry excuse for a bathroom and splashes water on his face, pausing when he sees his face in the mirror. There's dried blood leading out from his nose and when Donghyuck inhales, he feels a twinge of pain. He rubs at it with a vicious sense of satisfaction, watching the water run red and then back again.

Donghyuck leaves like that, in a ragged shirt with a sore throat and bloodshot eyes. Today, he has a heavy duty labour job, carrying stock from trucks into a warehouse and then organising them. The pay is sure to be decent given the scope of the job.

Walking with a quick pace, Donghyuck walks the mile down to the site, an almost dilapidated looking place where a handful of people are milling around. Someone in a high-visibility jacket glances at him, and asks for his name.

"Donghyuck Lee," he answers, standing apart from the others as he tries to blend in.

"You're late." The man who seems to be the manager looks at him with disdain and Donghyuck has to resist the urge to squirm.

"I'll make up the time," Donghyuck says, firm while fully knowing that he's not even five minutes late. He can't jeopardise the opportunity. Not when it has the potential to lead to more consistent employment. 

Another man walks over, also in high-vis, and runs through their task with them. It's simple enough and Donghyuck looks up, noting the high point of the sun, pale above them. 

_Eight hours of work. I can do this. I need to do this._

The hours count down and the work gets done late into the night. Donghyuck ignores his dizzy spells and the rash that's formed on his hip. He keeps his promise, staying even when the others have called it a day and left.

Alone in the warehouse, Donghyuck's every step echoes. His loneliness wears him down so that when the clock finally reaches 11 he throws off his gloves and rushes to the main building, small and grey. In it are a few of the staff earlier, lounging in the common area, and he finds the manager smoking with an absent look on his face.

"I'm done," Donghyuck says, shifting on the balls of his feet, fatigue alreadly settling over the strain of his muscles. 

The manager barely glances at him, tossing an envelope Donghyuck's way. It lands at his feet. It takes effort to suppress the anger that immediately wells up but Donghyuck only smiles and picks up the envelope, taking a quick count before counting again and again. It's short.

"Where's the rest?" Donghyuck asks, panic rising, hoping for it to be a simple mistake.

The slow returning grin tells him that it was anything but.

"That's it. I told you that you were late." 

The nameless manager looks more like a monster than Donghyuck has ever seen and bile forms when he swallows too hard. He casts his mind back to the optimism he'd held when applying for the obscure job posting and the inadvertent bend of his back from too much lifting. 

"Just give me my fucking money," Donghyuck says, voice low and disjointed.

He steps closer with thin restraint, imagining how easy it would be to choke the man before. _How long would it take?_ Donghyuck only stops when he registers the movement on both sides of the lounge and it dawns on him that he's never going to get the rest of his money. 

It's like a boulder in a lake, the thought. It drowns but you can see it go, disturbing otherwise still waters.

Donghyuck starts to protest until a fist flies into view, _just_ missing his jaw and connecting with his shoulder. A bruise is certain to bloom and Donghyuck can't really breathe, not right now.

Someone laughs on his right, a mean sound. "We don't need a junkie working here."

_Ah. Of course._

_It will always come down to this._

Donghyuck surveys the faces of those around him but finds that they all have the same pale look, melting into one entity and he feels the sudden onset weariness take hold of him. 

Some fights can't be won. 

After a moment, he reaches a conclusion and clutches his envelope tight before turning and shuffling out. 

He's always been weak.

It would be simple to expect that upon arrival at home, Donghyuck could just fall asleep. Nothing is ever that simple, not for Donghyuck. Instead, he arrives home to find his landlord standing in front of his door. When his landlord sees him, he plasters a smile on his face, but he fails to hide the troubled look in his eyes.

"Jan? What are you doing here? It's past midnight..." 

"Don't be mad," Jan says with a wince as he moves aside and lets Donghyuck unlock the door. 

It's strange, the first thing that Donghyuck notices is not the debris, nor the ankle-deep water. It's that fucking mirror that's fallen off the wall -- now facedown and floating in the murky depths.

_It was Jeno,_ Donghyuck remembers, _he bought me the mirror. _

He realises that Jan has been speaking. "-ourse, you can stay in my apartment tonight."

Donghyuck has to interrupt the earnest offer. This has never been an above board tenancy. Donghyuck did not sign a contract and there is no insurance for this hell-hole. Even so, he doesn't need to be subjected to Jan's needle-like curiosity. Not tonight. 

Donghyuck already has his fair-share of needles.

"I'm fine, Jan." Maybe there's something in the way he says it or maybe there's something in his expression because Jan relents, frowning as he goes.

Donghyuck wades through the water and collapses onto his mattress. For once, he ignores the pull of the drugs.

Things lurk in the dark. Donghyuck wakes up periodically, bones aching, to apparitions cut out of green and blue silk. In the night, all this makes sense and Donghyuck is pleased by the friends he's made.

That's how the night goes on and then even the daylight dwindles. Donghyuck has slept the day away and when he opens his eyes - with a start - it's night again.

As per usual, Donghyuck's brain goes straight to the drugs. He stumbles out of bed - legs getting drenched upto the calves - and crosses the room to take advantage of his adderall. 

He freezes when he sees what's happened. His drugs, all of them, are dunked underwater. The needles, the pills, the powders, everything. Donghyuck scrambles to save them, falling to his knees and splashing more water everywhere as he collects the paraphernalia in his arms and rushes to dump it all on his bed.

"No..."

It's ruined. 

A manic sense of self takes over him. Donghyuck starts to crush some water logged pills with abandon and fills a needle with the chunks. Then he presses the needle flush against his skin and waits for something that he can't name. He stares at the beige contents of the needle, eyes burning, but he can't bear to go through with it.

He flushes the pills down the toilet, disgust fuelling his actions. Contrary to what it seems, Donghyuck does still have a remnant of pride. 

Finally, Donghyuck pays attention to his phone which has been going off for what feels likes hours. Jaemin has sent a multitude of texts - all with varying degrees of nonchalance. 

Donghyuck doesn't think, he just _does_.

_Meet you in 10._

The park bench digs into the soft underside of Donghyuck's thighs, an unstoppable influx of cold rushes into his lungs and freezing the concave of his ribs. A sheer blanket floats overhead, the sky an endless black stretching through time and allowing the permutation of stars to slip through in the form of pinpricks. 

Tonight the stars are far and few between, scattered like frugal rations. Donghyuck basks in this, in the dark, delight thrumming behind his eyelids and warming up the parts of himself that have gone numb from the cold.

There's a sensation of water as if the heavens are giving a warning before an eventual downpour. In aggravation, Donghyuck sits up and wipes at his face. Jaemin holds onto his hand and pulls it away from his face. Jaemin then casts his water bottle aside, and giggles. "I wanted to wake you up." he shrugs, indifferent to Donghyuck's expression of irritation. 

"I wasn't asleep, doofus."

Donghyuck pries his hand loose from Jaemin's grip and snatches the bottle away. 

"You always ruin the mood." It's meant to be scathing but just comes out as if Donghyuck is disappointed that the _mood_ is ruined. He takes a sip from the bottle that he now realises does not have water in it. With a grimace, he lets the liquor burn his throat, if only to ignore Jaemin.

"I'm sorry for ruining the romance, Hyuckie." Jaemin pinches his cheek, layering the sugar onto his - already - sweet voice. 

Donghyuck huffs, turning back to look at the stars in the sky, rather than look at the stars glittering in Jaemin's eyes. 

He had come back. Of course, he had come back. One fact of their friendship is that Donghyuck could never leave, no matter how much of a fuss he makes. 

Jaemin welcomed him with open arms.

That's another fact of their friendship. Jaemin is too good for his own good. And they both pretend that their fight had never happened.

Somehow, none of it feels healthy.

"Hyuck," Jaemin whispers, words entering the world before being carried away by the swift wind. He's latched onto him again, looping his arm with Donghyuck's and pressing so tight that Donghyuck forgets where he ends and Jaemin begins.

Still looking towards the constellations Donghyuck answers, "yeah?"

"Move in with me."

He thinks of the flooded basement waiting for him and he thinks of a life full of regrets and he thinks of Jaemin who's infinitely kind even when he shouldn't be.

Donghyuck gives in. Time and time again.


	3. c is for codeine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> being this godly can't be good for my safety. please hear me.

"Stop staring at me." 

It's tense, Donghyuck glaring across at Jeno who's refusing to look away. Donghyuck is a second away from back-handing him and Jeno's smirk tells him that he's aware of this. He's dripping pride like the sadistic deviant that he is. He looks _devilish_.

Even in the comfort of his own thoughts, Hyuck _has_ to admit that he's exaggerating. Jeno is just as picturesque as Jaemin and he regularly gets cooed over by mothers walking down the street. Recently, this has been happening twice-fold since Jeno dyed his hair the colours of caramel candy, sweet and liable to stick. 

_Sweet or not he's still a bastard._

As if to prove Donghyuck's point, Jeno opens his bee-stung lips to speak. 

"How could I ever look away when you're just _so_ pretty?" Jeno quips, wiggling his eyebrows in suggestion and Donghyuck curses under his breath. Jeno and Jaemin are like two, coy peas in a pod. Just as he thinks this, there's stifled laughter from his side. Jaemin looks innocent but his laughter says otherwise and Donghyuck is beginning to regret this.

They're sat at a round table in Jaemin's apartment. _Our apartment_, Donghyuck stops to correct himself. _It's our apartment._ He's pulled out of this thought by a kick to his ankle and he hisses. He throws a venomous look over at Renjun who's reviewing his deck of cards with practiced stoicism. 

"Anyways, it's not my fault that you can't hold a poker face." Jeno quips, with an aura of certainty. 

Donghyuck flounders because it's true. He looks back at his deck with resolution and attempts to sculpt his face into apathy. It doesn't work. He feels nauseous, not able to concentrate of the game.

"Fine. I'm folding." He admits, tossing the deck for the others to see. They don't deign to spare the cards a second glance and instantly resume the game. "I'm getting a drink." Hyuck attempts with a forlorn expression and lingers for a reaction but they're all already exhumed by the match and no longer paying him any attention. He rolls his eyes before grabbing a beer from the kitchen and trailing through to his bedroom.

It's a relatively large room, better than anything Donghyuck could have afforded on his own. The plush rug that lays underneath his feet is enough to attest to that. Donghyuck ruminates on this luxury and takes a generous gulp of the beer before spluttering and having to pound his own back to avoid dying. 

"Fucking hell..." He manages when his airway is free of all alcohol. Not for the first time, Donghyuck resents the outright aversion Jaemin has towards fizzy drinks. Yet he stocks the fridge exclusively with shitty beer. _His liver must be hanging on by a thread_. Then his face contorts into something wild as he laughs hard at the very thought of scolding Jaemin for ruining his body. It's not like Donghyuck is the picture of fitness. As much as he does claim to resemble Michelangelo's _The Creation_, he's fully aware that his skin is sallow and his lungs are either dead or on the verge of dying. Drugs have a price. One that Hyuck has paid for over the years.

There's the slightest tinge of guilt that Hyuck experiences every time he thinks about his addiction. It's like a parasite that lives rent-free in his brain, nestled where happiness used to be. A few days ago, Donghyuck had walked past a flier and glimpsed the word _relief_. He doesn't know why but he walked back and read the flier properly. It was offering a free talk not far from Jaemin's _(their)_ apartment. He took a picture of the details without registering _why_ exactly he would do so.

Right now, in the calm of his room, beer bubbling upon his tastebuds and his friends laughing in hushed tones, Donghyuck feels certain as to why he stopped for the flier. 

_Relief. He wants relief._

Donghyuck forces himself to snap out of the reverie, feeling the beer soak through his shirt and coat his skin. For lack of anything to do, he decides to get started on this week's laundry. He walks into Jaemin's bedroom and picks up any item of clothing that looks less than perfect before he heads for the laundry room.

Once there, Donghyuck begins to load the laundry before taking off his own shirt and throwing that in as well. The nausea returns, bringing with it a light-headed sensation and Donghyuck steadies himself with one hand on the wall before he sits down on the ground. With his back against the exposed brick and his eyes closed, Donghyuck can almost pretend that he's back in the basement. He's like this for a while, breathing in the cold air and letting the rumble of the washing machine form white noise.

That is, until there's the sound of breaking glass and Donghyuck jolts up, vision erratic until it pinpoints someone standing in the doorway, shattered glass at their feet.

_Jaemin_.

He stands like that - totally unmoving - eyes fixated on Donghyuck's arms. There's a slick, sinking feeling because when Donghyuck gains the courage to look down, his arms are littered with weeping tracks that don't ever seem to heal _right_.

He jumps up, previous fatigue forgotten, wanting to say something - anything - but nothing is good enough and Jaemin continues in, his feet dragging behind him and without words, he traces the worst of Donghyuck's tracks in the most delicate way. It looks like his world is ending and Donghyuck is struck by the right words, the _only_ words that he has. 

"I'm sorry."

Jaemin looks at him, eyes glistening from unshed pain, and his hand drops like he's been burned.

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really curious to see how this fic will play out. I know I'm the one writing it but I actually have no clue. I hope this chapter was okay.


	4. d is for diazepam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> being this godly can't be good for my safety. please hear me. i'll be with you still.

Nobody tells you how life is one trial after another.

Donghyuck is on the bus, having to stand because all the seats are taken. It's been raining, condensation misting up the windows to the point where he can barely see where they're heading. 

When Donghyuck was a kid he was full of aspirations. Hopping from one dream to another like he was a rich man with deep pockets dealing in an excess of dreams. Once, he even felt destined to be a singer. Someone deep and soulful. Who could reach through a screen with their voice and cause joy and sorrow in immeasurable amounts.

Then he realised he wasn't good looking enough. And that was that.

He caused sorrow in other ways, though.

It's like Donghyuck was created to cause a hurricane, to wield destruction upon all the things that matter: his mind and his relationships, too jaded to even begin to try and repair the relationship with his parents, to offer his friends any actual benefits to being his friend.

There are many things that he wishes he could change.

Donghyuck clenches his fist tight and closed his eyes. The bus lurches under his feet and he thinks he may be sent flying, through the windshield and into the sky above before hitting the ground.

He doesn't, legs steady and bus slowing in traffic. 

_But one can always hope._

_It's terrible. Everything is terrible. _

Jeno stayed over the night before, sleeping next to Donghyuck ever so serenely. He fell asleep so easily. Donghyuck stayed awake for hours and scrolled through meaningless things on his phone. At breakfast, Jaemin made them all pancakes and made sure to draw a syrupy smile on Hyuck's. It was the spitting image of a perfect family. Donghyuck let himself bask in the picture, frozen in time for him to reminisce. He wishes it was something more substantial but Jeno had initiated a whipped cream fight so the situation had quickly devolved into all-out war.

Then Jeno and Jaemin both left for work and he was left all alone again.

One thing that Hyuck has found since moving, is that it doesn't matter where you're alone. A dingy basement or an expensive apartment. It's all the same to your brain. To your heart.

He thought he might go crazy with how trapped he felt. Practically bouncing off of the walls to find something to do. Briefly, he considered jumping out a window before putting the idea to rest. For now.

As you do - when you're bored - he switched the TV on.

But oh god, how can there be so many channels and yet nothing to watch. There are hundred of trifling shows that peddle drama in the name of entertainment. 

And every time he watches the news, there's another disaster. Political leaders gone astray. Environmental issues ignored. People dying. People killing. Famine. War. Children without parents. Children without homes or food or water. The world has been steadily collapsing for decades and yet we pretend we're more free than ever.

_The ice caps are melting. _

Donghyuck couldn't let go of this. It was on repeat inside his head, a broken record too difficult to face - _oh god, they're melting._

He was sent into a frenzy, brain fuzzy from the noon day atmosphere, laptop in hand to google article after article on the eventual demise of the world from flooding on a grand scale. 

It was only a temporary distraction from the constant alarm blaring in the depths of his mind: red and blue lights bumping from corner to corner in search of the ultimate answer to the ultimate question.

No amount of morbid questioning would suffice, though.

There was that itch again. The one that whispers _oxycontin_ like a lost lover seducing you again.

He missed his drugs and it's no wonder that he did.

Reality is depressing. 

So, now he's on a cramped bus seeking relief that he knows he's unlikely to find. 

But it's worth a try, right?

The bus comes to a slow and Donghyuck searches his surroundings. 

It's his stop.

**

The building is bigger than what he expected. An open reception spanning in three different directions and a bubbly receptionist who eagerly directs him to the right room. Donghyuck smiles at her, feeling embarrassed about his worn out clothes amongst the pristine furniture and colourful walls.

Carefully, he recites her directions in his head and treads slowly in the direction of the meeting.

_This is a bad idea._

**Step.**

_What am I even doing?_

**Step**.

_A goddamn group counselling isn't going to help me._

**Step.**

_What do I even say?_

**Step.**

_Hello. My name is Donghyuck and I'm a drug addict. _

**Step.**

_But Jaemin would be happy._

He swings the door open and walks into a room that is distinctly different from the rest of the building. 

It's small and filled with a plethora of mismatched wooden furniture. There are throw pillows cast about and large rugs spanning the entirety of the floor. Overhead, the light has been dimmed and the blinds have been drawn. In the light's stead, there are several lamps placed on desks strewn across the room. 

It's strangely intimate.

"Hello!" A strong voice exclaims, and Donghyuck's eyes are drawn towards the only other person in the room. It's a guy, not much older than him, clad in an oversized hoodie and fluffy slippers. His brown eyes are comically large behind his thick-rimmed glasses, overcast by thick bangs.

"You're early." The stranger remarks in a sing-song tone. Hyuck's eyes slide across to the wall-clock. He _is_ early.

Silently, he nods before shuffling out of the room backwards. _Some drugs would be good right now,_ he yearns. _Drugs would make this less embarrassing. _

"Wait!" The sing-song dude calls urgently, just as Hyuck has nearly escaped, eyes furrowed in bemusement. "You can stay and wait until we start?"

Nodding once more, Donghyuck shuffles in once more and hovers near the seats, hands twisting in discomfort. 

Walking towards Hyuck, the guy gestures towards the chairs and then they both sit. He turns towards Donghyuck and extends one hand, thousand-volt smile flashing.

"I'm Mark."

And unbeknownst to anyone, the world tilts a little on its axis.

_Y_e_ah. Drugs would be **really** good right around now._

*

"Hello."

Donghyuck lifts his head, smiles at how quietly Jaemin managed to steal inside the apartment without him noticing. Through the sunroof, enters a stream of dazzling light that highlights the coffee coloured strands of Jaemin's hair. He looks happy. Donghyuck feels an unnamed tug in his chest, watching the swell of Jaemin's cheeks.

"You're home early?" The words are an echo of something else entirely and Donghyuck winces at the realisation. 

There's the clatter of keys hitting the waxed wood of Jaemin's expensive side table before he throws off his jacket and settles on the far side of the sofa, away from Hyuck but still close enough to poke at Jaemin with his foot. Jaemin lets his head fall backwards onto the warm leather, eyes creased with weariness as he rotates to meet Donghyuck's gaze. The TV chatters uselessly in the background and Donghyuck catches some of the dialogue. 

** _"....be someone you trust..."_ **

He filters it out as Jaemin speaks, slow and steady, lips like the sweetness of honeysuckle daydreams. "I was tired, Hyuck."

_Oh_.

Already, Donghyuck understands what's being silently asked of him and without wasting even a single breath, he's shuffling forward, the leather beneath his hands immeasurably soft, and he hugs Jaemin. It's standard, really, and reminds Donghyuck of late summer nights, sneaking out of his window to meet at Renjun's -- the reassurance that the world was theirs and their youth was a kind of superpower.

He can almost smell the cherry of the alcohol they would secretly drink from Renjun's parents' wine cellar.

There's a pliant benevolence to Jaemin. There always has been -- almost to a fault. Right now, with his head slotted into the space between Donghyuck's collarbone and his pulse-point, he wonders how hard it must be to be so good.

In their childhood, they never rested, sprinting along from avenues to swimming pools and rainbows that glittered even as they grew. They're older now and so much has changed but Jaemin has yet to learn how to rest. Donghyuck wants to pry open his mind and teach him how to let go.

But he can't teach him what he doesn't know. Donghyuck is still holding onto too many parts of himself so this is the most he can do, Jaemin breathing lightly as his eyes shut close and he relaxes his weight into Hyuck's arms.

It's overwhelming, the urge to runaway - to gather all the people that he loves and escape to a country that doesn't know their difficulties, where they aren't stained by their worries. This must be one of his faults, his inability to deal with reality in a way that doesn't involve giving up.

"Take it easy." Donghyuck mumbles fruitlessly into the curly mess of Jaemin's hair, knowing Jaemin well enough to know that he won't. He tries adjusting his position so that he can continue watching his show. Jaemin only murmurs something unintelligible in response, hand digging into Donghyuck's side.

** _"...it's more difficult than i thought it would be..."_ **

He seems aggravated in a way that he usually never is. Jaemin is incredibly personable, endearing himself to even the coldest of individuals. It works well with clients and even with the higher ups. So, it's odd for him to return home with anything other than gossip from the cafeteria. Hyuck feels off-kilter when he remembers that he'd been happy while Jaemin was busy working hard to put food on the table.

Truthfully, Donghyuck had only been home for a few minutes before Jaemin had arrived. The meeting had gone on for longer than anticipated and, once there, Donghyuck couldn't bring himself to leave the array of people who unveiled the darker sides of themselves with careful consideration. 

And there was Mark who listened to Donghyuck's stuttering with the look of someone who couldn't be more interested.

**

_"Don't worry about speaking. I'll be right by your side."_ He told the truth, not forcing Hyuck to even introduce himself. For once, he felt like maybe he wasn't a terrible burden forcing himself onto the people around him. For once, Donghyuck could breathe without the shame that comes with being a user. 

Then when the meeting came to an end and people were helping themselves to the snacks, Mark sidled up close looking so proud even though Hyuck hasn't felt a reason to be proud of himself in years. 

_"You did well today."_

Donghyuck couldn't bear to look at Mark's cheek-splitting smile for too long. He could only shake his head and continue to chew his food.

_"I didn't do anything."_

Mark nudged him, shoulders bumping gently, still smiling serenely. _"Hey. You did enough."_

It was at this that Hyuck couldn't respond, something welling up inside his throat and suddenly he was choking back a wave of emotion that he _shouldn't_ have been feeling out in public with a room full of strangers. Maybe, Mark realised that Donghyuck was being a teary loser or maybe it was something else that caused Mark to turn serious; handing a business card to Donghyuck with a half-hug that ruffled Hyuck's collar loose. 

**

He walked home. Trying to delay the moment he reached their front door and is reminded of all his failures, everything that he can't do. All the things he could never prove. 

It's horrid to be plagued by your thoughts because your thoughts can't leave, there's no way to erase what Donghyuck himself is thinking up. There is no enemy -- no battle lines drawn up in the dirt, no white flag that he can wave. Donghyuck cannot surrender himself up to his mind. No. This is a siege and he's already lost.

There were grooves in the road that spoke of repeated strain and across the way, there was a boarded up shop, broken glass glinting red and blue under the spectrals of sunlight. It was once a cafe that fell into disregard. Solvency was the only option -- pushed into bankruptcy by the charming sheen of gentrification; a monster in it's own league.

Again, Donghyuck felt as if he was born on the wrong side of time, like a two-faced coin flipped and landing unfortunately. History has slipped through his fingers in the most unkind of ways, forcing him to love and lose and face that loss.

He's almost slipping under, under the veil and he's afraid that he'll be taking the others with him. 

A birdcage swung open, the clink measured out to a beat that he can't recall. There were no birds inside but Hyuck imagined that he could hear birdsong, something sweet and fragile.

But all he could really hear on that empty street was the sound of his own footsteps, hitting staccato against the pavement.

**

At the memory, that sick feeling is back. The one that's nestled in the pit of Hyuck's stomach and only grows stronger the longer that Jaemin rests on his shoulder.

It's heavy and oily in its viscosity and seems to weigh Donghyuck down. Taking a solid space like coal being heated within the young embers of a starting fire. There's a name for it.

Guilt.

Donghyuck watches the TV without truly seeing but he can hear the sombre words, all the same.

** _"...you need to stop thinking so much of me..."_ **

_Yeah. You do._

But Donghyuck doesn't know who he's aiming the words at.


	5. e is for ecstasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> being this godly can't be good for my safety. please hear me. i'll be with you still. You are the angel that I couldn't kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back with an update!! Hopefully, it's a satisfying development.
> 
> Also, for past readers -- I've made several changes to chapters 2, 3 and 4 so if you want you could reread those to see. If not then that's cool too.

Truthfully, Donghyuck doesn't believe he deserves redemption.

If asked then he would deny it but there's no excusing away his thoughts that forgiveness isn't for everyone; he's slipped into a universe where he's alive and walking around but he should be in a dark alley right now, using drugs to numb out everything outside of his mind.

He knows that it's unhealthy, this constant need to deny himself hope, to ignore the progress that he's making in favour of dwelling on his faults -- _so many faults._

_I'm doing it again._ Donghyuck's huffs out a frustrated breath, careful not to be too loud, conscious of the people around as he moves away from the window -- Sunlight has a way of highlighting everything that Donghyuck doesn't want to see.

"Hi Carla," Donghyuck greets with a sunny grin, waving at the receptionist before quickly stepping through to the hallway, arms heavy from all the bags he's holding. She waves back, so much more open than she was was when they first met. Donghyuck allows himself to think of it as a small victory, one that lets him know his personality isn't totally abrasive.

Donghyuck has become a frequent visitor to the recovering addicts support group that sits on the corner of fifth Avenue. 

Even sounding out the sentence in his head is painful; an inadvertent wince at how he's turned into an afterschool special -- _oh look kids! there's the drug addict who thinks he can escape his illness!_ The voice appears in his mind, a shrill woman with the inflections of an 80s suburbanite, mocking behind all the courtesy. 

_It's all in your mind. Snap out of it. _Donghyuck focuses on his breathing, going up in threes. 

_Three, six, nine, twelve..._

He opens his eyes on the fifteenth, the square lines of the number an attempt at normalcy and he grins, forced but at least it's there. Then he swings the door open, stepping into another world where numbers aren't square but neither are feelings, not capable of being boxed up when there's warmth and cookies.

And Mark. 

A beacon in crashing waves, Mark stands strong and steady, deep in conversation with another one of the attendees, head tilted in the way it is whenever he's invested -- like the world outside of whoever he's talking to no longer exists in that moment. Donghyuck adores it. He melts like a spring snow and the smile is no longer forced, only growing more sincere with every second and reaching a peak when Mark meets his eyes, acknowledging his presence with a pleased smile and a _wait a second_ gesture of his hands.

Donghyuck busies himself by unloading the desserts he's bought, having spent several hours baking with Jeno the day before (read: having watched Jeno bake the day before as he secretly ate the cake mix from the side). He calmly arranges the baked goods in a pyramid that would make those of Giza pale in comparison, hands steady as stone -- a rare occurrence for Donghyuck who doesn't have to feign surprise at how less lethargic he's been recently. 

The pyramid is almost instantly defaced by another attendee, a soft-spoken man only seven years Hyuck's senior, though the years are carried clumsily; heavy lines bringing his age up by a decade - an unfortunate exchange for using meth crystals daily since freshers week in college.

"Enjoy, Rhys." Donghyuck spreads his arms out in a welcome gesture, before hearing a _humph_ from behind him as his elbow makes contact with something awfully bony. A half-shouted aborted sound of displeasure escapes Donghyuck's mouth as he swings around, afraid that he's knocked Sojin off her walker - _my feet aren't what they used to be,_ is her usual refrain - an elderly pill popper who started to abuse her advil when her grandkids stopped visiting.

Only, when he turns around it's Mark who's clutching his jaw, red already climbing up the pale angles. Donghyuck feels instant mortification spiral out of control as his hands fail uselessly as his sides. 

_This is why I'm a social pariah when I'm by myself!_ He screams inside the safety of his own head.

"-ou okay?" Donghyuck is distracted from his internal meltdown of subsequently planning to move to Alaska and change identities by Mark's concerned voice, piercing through the panic with cautious care, coming towards him like one might approach a beaten animal, slow and steady - movement minimal.

Donghyuck is understandably taken aback. Here he is: inadvertently assaulting Mark and yet there are no repercussions in the form of a disappointment?

_He can't be real._

"Are _you_ okay?" Hyuck counters, leaning backwards to cling onto the warmth of the cotton tablecloth, searching Mark for the telltale signs of disappointment that should be arising. He doesn't find any.

"Of course. I'm great," Mark says, enthusiastically, just as the beginnings of a bruise become obvious to Donghyuck's eyes, a faint splash of blue on the corner of his chin. "Look, I'll show you." He walks forward and starts patting his chin with considerable force that startles Donghyuck enough to have his hands flying forward without his conscious permission. 

He grabs onto Mark's wrist and frowns deeply, "I believe you!" The sound carries across the room and he flushes at how urgent he must appear. "I believe you," He repeats quieter, dropping his hands back down and once again clinging to the table. 

Mark's attention seems to shift. His eyes travel behind Donghyuck and land on the food before lighting up, grin broad and excited. "Strawberry cheesecake? For me?" Mark asks, already grabbing a plate and serving himself as he speaks. 

Feeling pleased that he's remembered not only the fact that Mark has a sweet tooth but also his favourite dessert - Donghyuck has to remind himself to _keep it cool._

"Sure. If you want." He shrugs, ensuring that his voice is level. It's unnecessary because Mark has already dug in; not really beholden to formalities in the ways that most people are.

It's probably one of the reasons that he's so popular at DPDP, more commonly known as _Don't Puff/Do Pass_ \- the adjoining clinic that caters to inpatients and funds these meetings.

Initially, Donghyuck had been sceptical -- almost going as far as to bail in his first meeting. There didn't seem to be any structure or _actual_ therapy going on. It was nothing like dramatised scenes he'd seen on television. There was no sitting in a circle in a dimly lit room, recounting just how miserable they are. Instead, they all just socialise and eat and even have karaoke nights. As each session comes to an end, the staff bundle them together and everyone gets a minute to describe a recent moment of weakness and how they powered through it. Donghyuck finds this hard but then he feels that _relief_ that he's searching for, the pride at how he's still got some strength in him to ignore the demon that follows him.

It's working. Coming here is working. Donghyuck thinks that maybe it's because they're not treated like victims of circumstance. They're people who made choices of their own volition -- bad choices, yeah, but still choices. They had the autonomy to take the drugs and it destroyed them; it destroyed him. Now, they're using that autonomy to make another choice, the choice to stop using.

Here, Donghyuck isn't an addict fighting his urges. He's just a person who's socialising and eat and singing.

_I'm a person._

He can't stop from smiling stupidly and Mark stops eating, looking at Hyuck like he's never seen him before.

"What are you smiling about?" Mark wipes at his face with a napkin and sets his plate down. 

"I'm happy," He replies simply, not knowing how to properly verbalise everything he's feeling. Words are inadequate. 

"You should be. Today's a special day." The cryptic words confuse Donghyuck who's now certain that he's forgotten a birthday. He scrambles for an excuse, mind working overtime but is interrupted by Mark whistling, high pitched and abrupt. He clutches as his ears in surprise, and the confusion only grows when the lights are flicked off and replaced by the disco ball that's usually reserved for karaoke nights.

Everyone gathers clumsily the centre of the room - an attempt at a formation vaguely present - and start singing off-pitched and disorganised.

_"For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow-"_

Donghyuck feels oddly disoriented and is overcome by the idea that he's somehow high, having taken drugs through osmosis or something else equally ridiculous. Then there's a soft hand on his, and he's looking into Mark's eyes in the midst of chaos.

_"Hyuck. I'm here. It's okay,"_ He whispers delicately, the words meant only for Donghyuck with how gentle the words are.

Then it's normal again. Mark shifts backwards and seems to struggle with something, hands fiddling before presenting Donghyuck with a flat, leather case. 

"Happy two months free, Hyuck-ah." The affection in Mark's voice is prominent even through the deafening chorus of congratulations that follows, Hyuck surveying how everyone seems genuinely elated that he's made it this far.

Almost hesitantly, Donghyuck opens the case and suppresses the gasp that almost forms upon seeing the delicate purple medallion inside, crystalline 2 emblazoned in silver and silver chain glistening even under the sporadic lighting.

He hadn't even realised that it's been two months.

There's a hand on the small of his back, pushing him forward, he doesn't need to check to know who it is and so he doesn't. 

Rhys is waiting with a large cake with a single, burning candle. Donghyuck can't look away, not even when Rhys laughs and says: "make a wish!"

Donghyuck bends down, looking at the flame for a moment longer before blowing it out in one go.

_I wish the others were here to see this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm actually pleased with how this chapter ended up which is so rare for me. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!


	6. Changes

Hi. This is a much needed update chapter.

I recently got help from an editing team on _being this godly_ and I've realised that I'm not totally happy with the direction this fic was going in. As a result of this, I've been making changes to future chapters (though this won't affect your experience of the fic) and I've also made _significant _changes to chapter 2. I reccomend that you reread chapter 2 so there will be no confusion going forward as it's a major overhaul. 

The editing team in question is [floresco](https://floresco.carrd.co/#theteam) and they're absolutely amazing. Specifically, Rai has been so helpful with their criticisms and I couldn't be more please with the result. Please, if you're a writer (or a reader who has writer friends) then do check out their site for more information on their free(!!!) service.

I'll stop rambling! I hope the changes aren't too sudden and I'll be deleting this update after allowing ample time for subscribers to catch up.

**Author's Note:**

> don't know what i'm doing tbh.
> 
> title taken from "ana" by mother mother.


End file.
